


Being Sherlock Holmes

by vulcansmirk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Meta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:56:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1302319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcansmirk/pseuds/vulcansmirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wait, Sherlock is human? I thought he was a machine! Wait, Sherlock is a hero? I thought he was a sociopath! Or: the wheel turns, and nothing is ever new. We're just seeing it in a new light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He Doesn't Feel Things That Way

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to: [KissThemGoodbye.net](http://kissthemgoodbye.net/sherlock/index.php), whose screencaps I would be lost without; and [Ariane DeVere](http://arianedevere.livejournal.com), who has so selflessly transcripted every episode.

I’ll need a little help-mate on this adventure, so we’re going to follow what has become an important motif. Let’s look at the coat.

Aah, the coat. Sometimes armor, sometimes ego, sometimes lifeline, and always sexy as hell. If you want to know what it’s like being Sherlock Holmes (or William Sherlock Scott Holmes, as we’ve been told — _WSSH_ ), you need look no further than this.

Incidentally, this screencap comes from A Scandal in Belgravia, which is exactly where I’d like to start.

Within these first three series of  _Sherlock_ exists one particular story told several times over. The lengths and details vary, but the outcome is the same: “Sherlock doesn’t feel things that way”? Well, actually, he does. More than most.

The basic structure of all of these tales is as follows:

  * **Sherlock falls prey to sentiment.** Somebody catches his eye. Without knowing it, he who eschews all emotional investment starts to care.
  * **Sherlock becomes self-aware.** Be it through others’ insights or his own, Sherlock starts to realize his own feelings, and to worry that his feelings are poking holes in his armor. He needs to be cool and detached for the work; he needs to hold himself apart. So,
  * **Sherlock rejects sentiment as weakness.** He pulls back, often violently, in the hope that his mind has not been tainted, and his armor hasn’t been irreparably breached. But once he’s been ensnared, he can never really escape. He fights and fights, but eventually,
  * **Sherlock gives in.** He acknowledges his feelings, quietly, fearfully. Slowly but surely, he allows his feelings to inform his sense of self.



In ASiB, we get the most direct and undiluted assault on Sherlock’s defenses, full of helpful pointers and overt symbolism.

An important note about this episode: Sherlock sees himself in Irene. Her arc in the episode serves as an analog for what Sherlock thinks will happen to him if he succumbs to the siren call of sentiment. If you don’t believe me, think about the coat. One of its functions is that it represents Sherlock’s self-image, both how he sees himself and how he wants to be seen. For all intents and purposes, the coat  _is_  Sherlock Holmes. And who do we see wearing it for a good chunk of the episode? That’s right: Irene.

(Look at that, she’s got the collar turned up and everything.)

So let’s look at what happens when ~~Sherlock~~ Irene cares.

  * She lures Sherlock in. She’s been ordered to do it; it’s all part of the plan. But she likes him. That wasn’t part of the plan.
  * She realizes she likes him. Probably didn’t take her long — she deals in human emotion, after all, and she’s no stranger to intimacy. She changes the password on her phone to reflect the realization. Her heart is SHER-locked.
  * Sherlock figures it out. He uses it against her. She could have had everything, but because she was sloppy, because she let sentiment get the better of her, she loses everything. She won’t even last six months.



Dismal, no? This, too, is exactly as Sherlock expected. Feelings are a weakness, and sooner or later that weakness will be exploited. Nothing will be left. Better not to feel at all, right? Better to be a sociopath.

I think Sherlock uses “sociopath” as a defense mechanism. I can just imagine a little ten-year-old Sherlock flipping through a psychology textbook (for a bit of light reading, y’know) and coming across the term, thinking about how boring people are, how little he cares about them, how much he prefers puzzles and games. I can imagine him latching onto the moniker as a way of explaining to himself why he’s different, why nothing and nobody interests him. Truthfully, he just hasn’t met the right person yet. But this lie slides so easily into the empty slot in his understanding; it’s comfortable, so he accepts it. (A little like Redbeard. But we’ll get to that.)

Let’s go back to the coat for a minute. You see the red stitching around the button hole? The real coat doesn’t come like that; costume design added it on later. But why? Aesthetics, maybe — it certainly looks good there — but I’d like to think there’s a bit of symbolism involved, too. [Red is an important symbolic move](http://221beemine.tumblr.com/post/72612771644/the-sign-of-red), and I think the red on his lapel is the closest Sherlock Holmes gets to wearing his heart on his sleeve. (I’ll be using “Sherlock Holmes” as distinct from just “Sherlock” throughout this meta; if it doesn’t make sense yet, it will soon, I promise.) That little bit of red tells us he has feelings, even if he doesn’t show them. It’s the one detail that pokes holes in the idea that Sherlock is a sociopath; the rest of the coat is a foreboding, unforgiving gray/black, but there’s that dash of crimson, like blood on a wound.

Is Sherlock wounded? I should think so. I wouldn’t point to overt violence or abuse, but rather this: if Sherlock feels anything at all, it must be pretty damn potent to scare him away from feelings altogether. Say what you will about sentiment getting in the way of logic, Sherlock, but I think if that were all it was, you wouldn’t be quite so adamant in your stoicism. For that matter, if you were really a sociopath, you wouldn’t be waging a constant battle between your head and your heart.

Speaking of that battle, let’s look at it in the context of ASiB. (Remember the skeleton we talked about: he feels, he sees, he denies, and then he concedes.) In this episode, 

  * Sherlock is intrigued and impressed by Irene. She’s smart, fearless. When he meets her, he stumbles over his own words trying to prove how good he is. Her opinion matters to him. (Sherlock feels)
  * Irene stabs him in the back. She uses the fact of his attachment to get him to feed information to Moriarty, and then she tries to blackmail the British government into giving her all she’ll need to retire and then some. (Sherlock sees)
  * Sherlock figures out her weakness: she likes him. He exploits that weakness, and viciously. Reduces her to tears, makes her beg. Leaves her out in the cold. (Sherlock denies)
  * Then he turns around and saves her life. He’s angry with her, and angry with himself, but he can’t quite bring himself to deny his attachment altogether. He can’t let her die. (Sherlock concedes)



ASiB is an emotional roller coaster for everybody, but in the end I think it leaves Sherlock just slightly more open, slightly more human than he was before. He keeps Irene’s phone — her heart — in his top drawer, as a memento. But he also keeps it as a warning.  _This was the woman I loved; her love nearly killed her. Remember: that way lies peril._

But that’s not the end of Sherlock’s troubles, oh no. In fact, it’s not even the beginning. That is, to us, in a much more familiar place.

 


	2. This Is My Friend, John Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side."
> 
> By his own estimation, Sherlock is losing.

Sherlock feels. Sherlock sees. Sherlock denies. Sherlock concedes.

ASiB showed us this structure within the span of ninety minutes, but this same structure can be stretched over the entirety of series 1 and 2. The first two series tell us the story of how Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective who notoriously works alone, decides to allow one person behind the police tape, and how that one person opens Sherlock up to everyone else. I’m speaking, of course, of John.

**Sherlock Feels**

When Sherlock meets John, he’s not wearing his coat.

He’s been caught somewhat unawares, not in the middle of intimidating or impressing anyone. Just gathering some data in the lab. Then John walks in with Stamford. He’s nothing much to look at; Sherlock has him figured out in the space of two heartbeats. Boring.

He puts the coat on as he leaves.

It’s only after he puts on the coat that we get Sherlock’s first deductions, and for that matter his name. The name, the smarts, the coat — now he’s showing John who Sherlock Holmes really is. He’ll either scare John off or draw his interest, and he doesn’t care which. He needs a flatmate, but it doesn’t have to be John.

The next day, Sherlock reconsiders John’s usefulness. He needs an assistant, after all. So he dips his toe into untested waters. He needs to draw John’s interest, and he has an inkling that John will come with him, but he needs to be sure. He’s just zipped out of the room to go to Lestrade’s crime scene, but he reenters slowly — almost predatorily — and starts reeling John in. He is the embodiment of the calm before the storm, and his coat, his uniform on the battlefield, becomes titillation.

And of course John says yes. (Who could say no to that face?)

Nothing about John has surprised Sherlock yet. Nothing has made him stand out. He’s still predictable. Then in the cab, John calls Sherlock’s deductions “amazing.” That’s not what people normally say.

Suddenly, John is an unknown quantity. He’s not just interested in the puzzle, or the thrill — he’s interested in Sherlock. _  
_

Because this is so new an experience for Sherlock, at Angelo’s he misinterprets John’s interest for something that it isn’t (yet).

Notice: no coat. It isn’t just his expression that’s vulnerable here — his shields are down. There’s something almost inviting here, as though John has piqued his interest and now Sherlock wants to explore the possibilities. He thought he could deduce everything about John just by looking at him, but he was wrong, and now he needs to take a closer look. All of this is uncharted territory, and it’s not a place Sherlock Holmes would go, but just-plain-old Sherlock might. So, no coat.

John surprises Sherlock again when he shoots the cabbie.

Coat on this time. John doesn’t just appeal the human side of Sherlock now, he appeals to the dangerous side as well. Look at this man who compliments you in one breath and kills for you in the next. There’s something different about this one, and Sherlock doesn’t quite know what to make of it yet. But he’s definitely interested.

(My personal theory is that within John exists the same duality that exists within Sherlock — he tells himself he’s one thing, when in fact he’s quite another — and this is what Sherlock is responding to. We’re talking about Sherlock in this one, but I might do a shorter piece looking at the other side of the coin, because John is every bit as fascinating as our favorite consulting detective.)

The rest of series 1 is a study in lowering defenses. The relationship between Sherlock and John in The Blind Banker is characterized by a kind of sweet, innocent domesticity

(“Take my card,” he says with a smile; notice: no coat.)

and maybe a little bit of jealousy on Sherlock’s part.

(He’s looking at Sarah here. Again, no coat. Sherlock Holmes doesn’t care about his flatmate’s girlfriends, but plain-old Sherlock does.)

But he's also still hiding from John in some ways. The Arabian knight in the flat, the way Sherlock abandons John at the museum to go after the killer himself. John is still The Sane One in Sherlock's mind, too delicate for his line of work.

The Great Game features a Sherlock who’s gotten comfortable enough with John to be a complete asshole without fear of abandonment.

(He’s so far from wearing the coat here he may as well be naked. Can’t say I’d be disappointed if he were.)

Throughout TGG, we see Sherlock trusting John with the most sacred of his possessions: the work. He sends John to investigate the Connie Prince murder, and the Bruce-Partington mystery. He asks John to look at Carl Powers’ shoes. This isn’t intellectual trust he’s placing in John, but it is important: he’s inviting John into his world. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore, and for once in his life there’s another person he likes hanging around.

And when John jumps Moriarty to try and give Sherlock an out, that's yet another surprise. John never stops surprising Sherlock. This one in particular starts to chip away at the notion that John is the domestic one and Sherlock is the adventurer -- maybe John's an adventurer, too.

Sherlock’s attachment to John has grown to the point that he panics when John’s life is in danger

and, more importantly, he may not trust John to be an intellectual giant like himself, but he does trust John to have the same interests, the same priorities, the same self-effacing morality. He trusts John to die with him.

(John gives Sherlock one small, decisive nod here.)

Solidarity.  _I’ll die by your side._

These two are now inextricably linked. Sherlock is smitten, though he doesn’t know it quite yet.

It doesn’t take him long to find out.

**Sherlock Sees**

I won’t go through ASiB again, but I will reiterate that the analog of Irene to Sherlock officially tips the scale out of Sherlock’s favor. Suddenly, he becomes aware of the acute risk of sentiment, and I think this is the point where he starts to notice the feelings that have snuck up on him regarding John. With Irene, he witnesses firsthand the destruction such attachments can cause, and now he’s worried, and confused. He thought he was immune to this stuff, invincible. Sherlock’s life with John isn’t just a game anymore — now there are risks; now there are stakes; now there are consequences.

Let’s talk about pressure points. According to Magnussen, one of Sherlock’s pressure points is Irene Adler. We already know why that is.

Another one is the hounds of Baskerville.

At Baskerville, Sherlock feels something unprecedented for him. He feels doubt.

For the first time in his life, he can’t rely on the integrity of his senses, his observations, because what he observes just doesn’t make sense. He gets emotional, and he lashes out at John like a wounded animal. He’s not wearing the coat here. He can’t cobble together the fragments of himself into a shape that resembles Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock’s emotional moment in HoB only reminds him, again, of how dangerous feelings can be, how exposing they are. But on its own it’s not enough to push him over the edge, so instead we find him apologizing to John, and revealing the true extent of his growing attachment.

"I don’t have friends. I’ve just got one."

He’s wearing the coat here; he’s returned to his old self, but he’s also guarded again. Even as he says the words he knows how damning they are.

Irene’s one of Sherlock’s weaknesses, Baskerville is another, and here we find that John is a weakness for Sherlock, too. Perhaps his biggest weakness. What unifies Sherlock’s long list of pressure points is that they recall moments in his life where he has been vulnerable, where he’s shown his hand; they’re red-stitched holes one might pick at and unravel the tapestry he’s woven in front of his face. The genius, the sociopath. Sherlock’s pressure points represent all the times in his life when he’s let slip that there’s a man beneath the mask.

Yet another pressure point of Sherlock’s is Moriarty. “I will burn the heart out of you,” he said, and he meant it. With the benefit of hindsight, we now know that Sherlock and Mycroft were planning for Moriarty’s big assassination attempt long before it actually happened. It’s hard to pinpoint just where in the narrative they began countermanding Moriarty’s plot, but I think a safe bet is probably somewhere between the end of ASiB and The Reichenbach Fall. This is important to note because it means Sherlock has been planning for his own "death" for months. A cold undertaking, to be sure -- but certainly an easier one when the idea is still abstract, when the wheels have not yet been set in motion.

Aside from the obvious onslaught of tears and angst that makes TRF significant, there’s also Sherlock’s relationship with Moriarty. They’re set up in this episode as mirror images of one another.

Look, Moriarty’s even wearing his own version of the coat.

"I am you," Sherlock tells Moriarty. But we all know that’s not quite true. Just as Moriarty has no red stitching in his lapel, he has no openings to exploit, no pressure points. Sherlock’s whole reason for being here is that he was vulnerable, so much so that it became necessary for him and Mycroft to manipulate Moriarty’s understanding of those vulnerabilities in order to prevent Sherlock’s death.

Sherlock isn’t Moriarty. He is willing to burn, though.

**Sherlock Denies**

To face Moriarty, Sherlock needs to give up his humanity entirely. Shouldn't be too hard -- this is the mother of all puzzles after all, and Sherlock is all wrapped up in it. Moriarty is the puppet master, and to take him down, Sherlock can't be a puppet. He can't be vulnerable.

"I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for  _one second_  that I am one of them.”

Look at that. That is a face that brooks no argument; it’s impermeable. This shot gives me chills every time, because Sherlock’s expression, combined with this eerie lighting that comes from above and obscures his face, completely dehumanizes him. For a second, you really do believe he’s something  _more_  than a man.

However, he’s already betrayed himself.

"You look sad…"

"…when you think he can’t see you."

I think that, even before the sniper threat, on some level Sherlock believes he’s doing all of this for John, keeping John's world safe even as he destroys his own. His denial, which would have been shaky already, is made all the more unbelievable by the fact that he reinforces it in one breath and betrays it in the next. He is more than a man, but love is a vicious motivator. _  
_

He’s prepared to burn. Prepared to do what ordinary people won’t do. But ordinary people ask for help, and guess what?

So does Sherlock.

Sherlock reaching out to Molly is a pivotal moment for him. This isn’t the forced connection he has with Mycroft as a brother, nor the accidental one he has with John as a partner. He’s pushed this connection back for years, but now he’s opening up to it. Part of this, obviously, is pragmatism: he needs someone with access to the body of Moriarty’s decoy Sherlock. But his eyes are full, and as he says the words — “I need you” — his voice breaks. We’ve all seen Sherlock act the victim to get what he needs, but I’m inclined to trust in the integrity of his emotions here. Molly likely would have done this for him anyway, but he allows himself to become emotionally vulnerable in front of her, because he’s starting to trust her. Another chink in his gradually disintegrating armor.

Notice above, when Molly first approaches Sherlock, he’s not wearing the coat. Again, he’s been caught off his guard. When he goes back to ask for her help, it’s shields up, cue the collar. I think this is a defense mechanism, not against Molly, but against himself. He’s trying to be impenetrable in order to face Moriarty head-on, but he already knows he isn’t, not even close. Even Sherlock sees the red on his lapel now. It’s like he’s keeping the scattered pieces of himself reined in beneath the silhouette of Sherlock Holmes. Maybe he meant to go in and order Molly to help him, but he’s shaken. He’s seen this coming from miles away — the fall — but now here it is, and he’s not ready for it. He’s not ready to leave Sherlock Holmes behind, either by faking his suicide or by giving in to sentiment.

But only one of these eventualities is avoidable, and by avoiding one, Sherlock seals the other. When Moriarty blows out the back of his own skull, it becomes impossible for Sherlock to avoid faking his death. So, he puts his feelings aside, and he puts John’s feelings aside. And he falls.

**Sherlock Concedes**

This story isn’t over yet. Of course not. How could it be? We get just a teensy glimpse of Sherlock’s concession in the graveyard at the very end of TRF.

John makes his speech. “You were the best man, and the most human… human being that I have ever known.” John saw the red in Sherlock’s lapel; of course he did. And the way he speaks of Sherlock now, so glowing, so heartbroken… I think it makes Sherlock rethink his sociopath persona. He’s only known vulnerability to lead to destruction, but if being seen as vulnerable, as human, can lead to something like this, this shocking warmth from John Watson, well. Maybe it’s not so bad after all.

"I was so alone, and I owe you so much." I think these words will follow Sherlock for the next two years. Almost immediately upon his return, Sherlock is speaking to Mycroft and Mycroft asserts, "I’m not lonely, Sherlock." And Sherlock, with an air of superiority underlaid with a deep sadness, replies, "How would you know?" If he didn’t think it right when he heard John say it, Sherlock’s thought it by the time he returns: John wasn’t the only one who was alone, and he isn’t the only one with a debt to repay.

And finally: “One more miracle, Sherlock,  _for me._  Don’t be dead.”

This is John asking Sherlock for a miracle, and at this point, who is Sherlock to deny him anything? The man who continued to believe in him when no one else would? The man who believed in him before anyone else bothered? This is  _John Watson_  telling Sherlock Holmes, “Don’t be dead.” And this is Sherlock’s answer.

This isn’t the face of a victor. This is the face of a man, a man who’s sad, who’s got years of hard work ahead of him. And it’s the face of a man determined to fulfill the final request of his best friend.

"I asked you to stop being dead," John will tell him two years from now. And Sherlock will just smile back.

"I heard you."

He did his best to let go, but in the end, Sherlock’s friendship with John is what sustains him through two long years of absence. When he finally returns, he can’t wait to jump right back into his old life with his best friend.

Boy is he in for a surprise.


	3. Human Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sherlock! She loves you!"
> 
> "Yes. Like I said — human error."
> 
> Love is a mistake. Janine, as it turns out, isn’t the only one making it.

We already know that Sherlock cares deeply for John, at least on a platonic level. But there are two big things Sherlock will realize in series 3. One: that John actually cares just as much for him as he does for John (this one has been a small point of dramatic irony for us for the past two series — we knew it, but Sherlock didn’t). Two: that Sherlock doesn’t just like John, he  _like_  likes him. But before we get into that, let’s check in with the heart of our hero.

**Sherlock Feels**

The truth is, he never stopped. But he’s had so much time to converse only with himself that I think Sherlock has managed to delude himself again. (Are your Redbeard senses tingling?)

Evidence that ASiP!Sherlock and TEH!Sherlock are two entirely different men:

  * As soon as Sherlock is back in London, he asks after John.
  * "I’ve nearly been in contact so many times, but…" He explains his silence to John by saying he was worried about keeping the secret of his survival, and to a certain extent I think this is true — after all, how suspicious would it have looked if the person closest to Sherlock suddenly stopped grieving his death? — but I’m also inclined to connect this to John’s earlier conversation with Mrs. Hudson: "It just got harder and harder to pick up the phone, somehow." When he enters the restaurant where he’s to crash John’s dinner date, he’s the cat that got the canary  
  
  
  
but then he catches sight of John, and he falters.  
  
  
  
This reveal is so fraught with emotion, I don’t think he ever really knew how to broach the subject. (What would he say?  _Well, short version — not dead_? Oh wait.)
  * He doesn’t treat Mary like he’s treated most (if not all) of John’s other girlfriends. He isn’t openly hostile, and in fact seems quite comfortable with her, and accepts her support (“He would’ve needed a confidant”; “I’ll talk him round”).
  * He seems to have a mental list of all the people who need/deserve to know he’s back before it hits the papers — John, Molly, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson. His people. He’s far from alone.
  * He invites Molly to solve crimes with him. “Welcome to my world.” She assumes he’s just trying to fill the John-shaped hole in his life, but he continually assures her that  _she_  is the one he wants around. He shares a few murmured quips with her in the train enthusiast’s flat, and he’s comfortable venturing into his mind palace in front of her though in HoB he preferred to shoo everyone away first. His congratulations on her engagement appear warm and genuine, and he even injects a little physical intimacy into the exchange with a kiss on the cheek.
  * "Fancy some chips? I know a fantastic fish shop just off the Marylebone Road. The owner always gives me extra portions."  
"Did you get him off a murder charge?"  
"Nope, helped him put up some shelves."
  * _He hears John’s voice in his head._  He responds to it quite comfortably, no? Almost as though this isn’t a new phenomenon. How much do you want to bet he held whole conversations with John’s ghost while he was away?
  * He rushes to pull John from a fire. And the look on his face?  
  
  
  
Come on.
  * He actually called the police on the train bomb. Even John didn’t expect that.
  * At the end, he’s playing host to almost a dozen people in his flat. This is not the taciturn Sherlock from ASiB, speaking only long enough to ridicule his Christmas guests; this Sherlock is pouring champagne and winking at John’s fiancee. Changed man.



**Sherlock Sees the First Thing**

John loves him. I won’t speculate as to the nature of John’s love here, but we all know he loves Sherlock. All of us, that is, except Sherlock.

Sherlock’s first hint comes in what I have affectionately come to call the Yolanda sequence. He comes back to London thinking he can go back to the way things were, that in two years somehow nothing has to have changed. (“What life? I’ve been away.”) He starts piecing together his old life: the coat, the city, the blogger, the inner circle. But he hits a big snag with John.

In the Yolanda sequence, Sherlock is not wearing the coat, but I would argue that a disguise is an even bigger defense mechanism than his Sherlock Holmes persona. He can’t face John as himself  _at all,_  not even the self he’s cultivated. He needs to be someone else. Part of this is theatrics; part of it is fear.

I don’t even think Sherlock quite registers his fear at this point, though. He’s tricked himself into thinking it isn’t there. So he goes in, spotlights blazing, makes his grand reveal. Realizes, upon taking in John’s shattered face, that he’s really stepped in it this time.

"…but in my defense, it was very funny."

Sherlock makes the same mistake here that he made back on the roof of Bart’s, and in all the planning up to that point, and in the two years after. He got caught up in the game, and he let it overshadow reality. Before, locked in a battle of wits with Moriarty, he registered John’s feelings (though he had yet to understand the full extent of them), and he registered his own, but between the heart and the head Sherlock chose the head. In the restaurant, we witness the tail end of what has been two whole years of that same mistake. Up to this point, there’s been nobody there to correct him — John had been cut out of Sherlock’s affairs, and hell if Mycroft cared how many hearts were broken in the line of duty. All he had was the puzzle of dismantling Moriarty’s web, and he threw himself into it, managing to forget about his heart entirely. Now, with John standing before him, falling apart, Sherlock experiences one big, stomach-dropping  _oh._ He fucked up, and now he knows it. He knows he can’t just erase his heart and pretend it was never there. To do so would be an injustice to John.

So part one of this revelation chiefly involves reminding Sherlock that his relationship with John leading up to the fall was unavoidably close. Part two involves taking that idea a step further, and making Sherlock understand that a lot can happen in two years. This part takes place in the train compartment.

Originally, I was of the mind that Sherlock remembered how to stop the bomb going off when John made him go into his mind palace, but when I paid closer attention to John’s speech in this scene — “So you can’t  _switch the bomb off_ " — I actually think Sherlock was tipped off by this line, which occurs just after the countdown begins. "Switch off," "off switch." Ding, lightbulb.

So Sherlock knew pretty much throughout the whole countdown that he could stop the bomb from exploding, but he takes the opportunity, in typical Sherlock fashion, to manipulate his friend. He uses a life-or-death situation to try and elicit forgiveness from John. But he gets a little more than he bargained for.

Sherlock heard John’s speech over his grave — “You were the most human… human being that I have ever known” — so he sort of knew how John felt about him, but it’s one thing to praise someone while grieving his death and another thing entirely to praise him to his face, even if both of you are about to die. Nevertheless: “You are the best and the wisest man that I have ever known. Yes, of course, I forgive you.”

Sherlock is taken aback.

I don’t know about you, but I think there is genuine awe in this expression. Sherlock knew he was John’s friend, but he didn’t really understand just how important he was to John. The way John speaks now, it reverberates with something not quite encapsulated by the word “friendship.” ([It’s friendshi, obviously.](http://mid0nz.tumblr.com/post/79617778616/i-want-to-believe-tjlc-and-all-that-yet-as-a)) This is something more than  _how could you let me grieve for two years;_  this isn’t just hurt and bereavement, this isn’t an absence, it’s a  _presence._  The presence of something important, something vital. This is John’s heart on his sleeve, and Sherlock is shocked to find his name all over it. Correct me if I’m forgetting something, but I think this moment in the train marks the last time Sherlock seriously manipulates John.

Part three of this revelation occurs in The Sign of Three. We all know it well, I’m sure. The big question: the best man. (No, not Billy Kincaid.)

"So… in fact… y-you mean… I’m your… best… friend?"

Sherlock is one of the two people John loves and cares about the most.  _John loves him._  Sherlock’s best man speech brings me to tears every time: “I never expected to be anybody’s best friend, and certainly not the best friend of the bravest, and kindest, and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.” Sherlock in this episode has been tipped over the edge; he no longer cares about appearing too vulnerable. At the wedding, never once is he wearing his coat (not until the end, at least, but I’ll get there). He throws himself into preparations, he gives a heartfelt speech in front of a room full of people, he writes a beautiful waltz and plays it live while John and Mary have their first dance. He is the consummate best friend, completely open and supportive, telling John in his every word and action that he is loved in return.

Once Sherlock sees John’s heart in full light, inevitably he comes to see his own in the same way. His emotional understanding of John breeds a certain self-reflexivity.

**Sherlock Sees the Other Thing**

Sherlock  _lurves_  John. Oops. How did that happen?

Arguably, TSoT is an episode all about sex. I linked in part 1 of this meta to [221beemine](http://tmblr.co/m1WcX0XuWhMbO6Qucka-2Hw)'s treatise on the way red is used throughout this episode; additionally, mentioning sex in front of Sherlock to make him uncomfortable becomes a motif. Molly does it (and Sherlock changes the subject right back to John); Tessa does it (and Sherlock yanks his arm back from where it rests behind John's shoulders on the couch); Vicky is just one big ball of sexual innuendo (whom John interrupts at quite an opportune moment). Irene makes a surprise appearance in Sherlock's mind palace just as he's discussing John's middle name (Irene: sex symbol, and symbol, too, for dangerous levels of vulnerability). I'd say this makes a case for Sherlock beginning to understand his own sexuality.

Beyond that, there are the constant reminders of John’s leaving to go Be Married. Mrs. Hudson prods Sherlock in the very first scene (after Lestrade: the Movie, that is): “Marriage changes you as a person, in ways that you can’t imagine,” and the story about her bridesmaid and best friend with whom she lost contact after marrying Mr. Hudson, providing a helpful analog for Sherlock’s real fears concerning John. After this conversation, we get a shot of him staring forlornly at John’s empty chair.

(This is probably the last time it will reside in this room for a while.)

Then there’s the conversation with Mycroft. “It’s the end of an era, isn’t it?” (Same words Hudders used. Reader: notice the repetition.) Sherlock is reminded, again, that the life he knew is coming to an end, but he refuses to believe it. This conversation also features our first mention of Redbeard.

"I’m not a child anymore, Mycroft."

Briefly, let’s explain the Redbeard story.

In [this  _Empire_  interview](https://soundcloud.com/empiremagazine/sherlock-series-3-spoiler), Moftiss explain to us that Redbeard was a dog Sherlock had as a child. The dog was put down, and his parents told him, as parents do, that they’d put it out to pasture. Sherlock believed them. Friendly reminder: Redbeard is one of Sherlock’s pressure points. Why? Because he allowed himself to be fooled. More accurately, he fooled himself. And why did he do that? Simple: sentiment. Sherlock’s pressure points represent moments where he’s shown weakness, and Redbeard is no exception.

So why does Mycroft bring up Redbeard here? I think Mycroft means it in more of a plot-relevant sense — Sherlock, you’ve seen the signs, and you know Mary is hiding something. If you dig around, you’ll only ruin John’s happiness.  _Don’t get involved._  But Sherlock takes it to heart, because Redbeard, after all,  _is_  his heart, his heart which is so full of love it would rather pretend everything is okay than face the truth.

Sherlock has been pretending with John for a long time. [Drunk Sherlock knows how he feels about John](http://221beemine.tumblr.com/post/72497575119/for-science-jawn-you-asked-for-it-you-got-it-shot), because he’s run on instinct, but sober Sherlock is slow on the uptake. Finally, by the end of the episode, he’s got it.

At first, he deduces Mary’s pregnancy and he’s genuinely happy about it, because he knows how happy it will make John.

As long as John’s got his hand on Sherlock’s neck, John’s happiness is Sherlock’s too.

When John lets go, it’s like everything snaps into focus for Sherlock. He starts to realize the implications of a pregnancy. “You’re hardly gonna need me around now that you’ve got a real baby on the way.”

He’s looking at John as though across a divide. John’s happiness isn’t Sherlock’s anymore, because he realizes how little room there will be for him in John’s world. Suddenly, it really  _is_  the end of an era.

John and Mary dance out of sight, and then Sherlock spends a few frames looking like this.

Lost in thought. Exploring all the possibilities. Running into dead end after dead end.

He snaps out of it, looks around, visibly tries to find another avenue to follow. Janine catches his eye, and he almost goes to join her — but she’s busy, too. No room for Sherlock anywhere. It’s decided, then.

He goes up onstage, folds his composition, tucks it into an envelope. He steps down again and walks out, past everyone. Molly notices him go, but says nothing. Cut to outside.

He’s put on his coat. Shields up, collar fully engaged. No red in sight.

Sherlock already knows he cares for John. He’s moved past a childish need for John’s undivided attention, and gained respect enough for John that he doesn’t even manipulate him anymore. But as John runs off into his perfect domestic life with Mary and baby, Sherlock realizes that he’s let this go on for too long. He’s losing John now because he failed to understand and to articulate to John the extent and the nature of his feelings. He’s finally stopped lying to himself:  _he loves John._  He doesn’t just want John the adventurer, the one who momentarily escapes the tedium of domestic life to chase down criminals at Sherlock’s side — he wants the other half, too, the peaceful half, the gentle half. Mrs. Hudson said Sherlock wouldn’t understand marriage because he always lives alone, but that wasn’t true at all — once upon a time, Sherlock lived with John.

Now, in true Sherlock fashion, he’s fucked everything up. He marvels at the mistake he’s made, the one he’s managed to keep on making throughout all the years he’s known John. He wonders how he could have opened himself up so much for nothing. And then he closes himself off again, puts on his coat, and leaves all of this behind. For a whole month, Sherlock’s life really is just how it used to be: solitary.


End file.
